


The Widowed Sky

by myownanchor



Series: The World Wore Black [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Bromance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownanchor/pseuds/myownanchor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The grief of losing loved ones painted Beacon Hills black.</p>
<p>Scott tries to be a bastion for the members of his pack, but, after burying a friend and a lover, he just feels like crumbling down. However, when pain and guilt threaten a loved one, he has to gather what's left of his strength to prevent darkness from taking over his brother's heart once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the day that should have never been.

Even though it was still early, the sky was dressed in heavy clouds that neared pitch black, pouring cold drops of an unwanted rain. It resembled a widow watching the coffin go down the grave, realizing for the first time that she would never see her loved one again.

In that way, the sky was just appropriate to the events down in Beacon Hills graveyard.

Standing in the front row, Scott held a black umbrella to shelter his mom from the rain. He was dressed in black, just like every one of the dozens who were attending the funeral of Allison Argent.

\- Scott, my dear, the rain is falling on you. - said a worried Melissa.

He didn’t feel the drops of cold water that were drenching the side of his body he wasn’t covering with the umbrella. They both knew he wouldn’t get a cold from this thanks to his werewolf healing, but her motherly instincts were stronger than any supernatural force. Scott moved the umbrella a little bit to the left just to make her feel a little less preoccupied, but he didn’t mind the rain. He didn’t mind anything at all.

Even with his heightened senses, he wasn’t hearing much - or at least not listening. He wasn’t bothered by the drops falling against the gravestones, the high-pitched voice of the priest who was giving the sermon or the cries of most of the presents. He also didn't mind the perfume of the hundreds upon hundreds of different flowers, mixed with the smell of wet soil and the pungent scents of pain and grief mixed together. His eyes were locked on the white coffin in front of him, contrasting with the sea of black around it, while his mind was filled with memories of the girl inside it.

The cries became louder when the coffin finally went into the grave. Lydia could barely stand up and was being held by Kira. Her sunken eyes were completely filled with tears, with the usual green being replaced by a grey as dull as the sky. Isaac was shaking and couldn’t handle the pain of watching the coffin go down. Instead, he stared at the ground, tightly hugging himself while his tears fell down amidst the raindrops. Mr. Argent was the one standing closer to the grave. His years of training enabled him to lock his feelings away, but Scott could sense that they were still there when he threw the last white rose over the coffin. Even Ethan, who had buried his twin brother a few hours earlier in a much smaller ceremony on the edge of the graveyard, was there to say his last goodbye. There was just one person missing.

When the service was over, everyone walked to their cars. Some hurried, as the rain was getting heavier, but others walked slowly, taking their time to turn their backs to Allison for the last time. In the end, only Scott, Melissa, Mr. Argent, Isaac and Lydia stood there, all deadly silent.

\- Let’s go home, honey. - said Melissa, breaking the silence.

\- Thanks mom, but I want to go somewhere else first… - replied Scott, barely keeping himself from choking on his own words.

She nodded and gave him a sweet consenting smile, as she knew exactly where he was going. They both left together under the black umbrella after she said goodbye to the people who stayed there. Scott couldn’t find enough strength to do that.

\- You can take it. - said Melissa, while unlocking the car. - Just drop me home first, ok?

Scott thanked her with a smile, because talking now seemed impossible to do without bursting into tears. He had been wanting to cry since Aiden’s funeral, but he just couldn’t do it. He still was the alpha of his pack, and he had to find a way to be strong for his friends. He couldn’t afford breaking down right now. He had to be their bastion, even if a crumbling one.

The ride to Scott’s house was a silent one. Melissa knew more than anyone that her son was in pain, and she didn’t want any misplaced word to make it worse. So, when they got home, she said a silent goodbye in the form of a kiss on his forehead and a comforting smile.

Scott tried to fight it, but couldn’t stop a tear from sliding down his right cheek after his mom’s goodbye. It was just a little kiss, like the one she always gave him, but it touched the skin of a teenager who just buried a friend and his first love, and not of a powerful true alpha whose pack just got smaller.

After two deep breaths, Scott began another silent drive. There were many others along the way as he tried to focus on hiding his grief behind his worries about the one person he was sure was in more pain than him. The one who was missing in both funerals. The one who was thinking both funerals were his fault.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott pulled over in front of Stilinskis’ house. Every light was off, but he knew there was somebody home. He could catch a scent, one with the sharp and musty smell of pain, like the one he felt around everyone in the graveyard. Stiles was in there, and he was suffering.

He knocked on the front door twice, but no one answered. Stiles was probably having his deserved long hours of sleep after the Nogitsune made even napping something life-threatening to everyone around him. However, Scott knew by the scent that his friend wasn’t having a peaceful rest. Maybe he was having a nightmare, a panic attack or simply - and terribly - sick. Since his face was the one behind the onis who went on a killing spree at the hospital, they decided it was best that he recovered at home. Melissa said he didn’t have anything that required any treatment other than eating and resting well for some days, but after seeing his friend come out of a MRI machine with a terminal diagnose, Scott didn’t want to feel like his brother could be the next one he would bury.

At that point, Scott was already trembling and nearly panicking. He was about to get in through the window to Stiles’ room upstairs when his cellphone vibrated in his pocket. After almost dropping it on the floor because of his shaky wet hands, he read the new message.

“Come in, Scotty. You know where the spare key is.”, it said.

A sigh of relief left Scott’s mouth. Stiles was fine, at least fine enough to send a text. He clumsily got the key from under a plant vase, nearly dropping it as well, and quickly ran up the stairs, not noticing the trail of mud footprints he left behind.

The room was almost completely dark, the only light coming from the laptop screen, which illuminated Stiles’ face with a bluish tint. He was wrapped under a thick blanket, with the computer on his chest.

\- Hey Scott… - he said. - Turn on the lights, please? It’s too comfy here to move.

\- Of course.

He turned on the lights of the room, making his friend squint, and walked towards him. With his eyes barely open and adapting to the light, Stiles signaled Scott to sit beside him, while he sat up himself, getting rid of the covers.

\- Hello, big guy. How are things out there? I guess rainy. You look like a puppy who just got out of a cold bath.

Scott smiled. He missed Stiles’ wit so much, and it was great seeing that it was finally back. However, he still wasn’t looking good. The dark circles under his eyes and the sickly pale skin were still there, even though less than before. He didn’t look like a waking corpse anymore, but it still was far from healthy. Also, now that he was closer, Scott could hear his unstable heartbeats and heavy breathing. He seemed exhausted. It was like he barely had enough energy to stay alive. His scent was also different, with his chemosignals almost screaming “not ok”.

\- Well, not very happy… The funerals were today, you know… - Scott replied, almost trampling over the word “funerals”. - We missed you there.

\- I can’t even imagine how bad it must have been… I’m sorry Scott, I just couldn’t be there, you know? After all, I was the…

\- No, you weren’t. - interrupted Scott.

\- I know, that’s what everyone is saying, but it’s hard not to think that, Scott. Specially because I remember everything. It’s like that time when we were kids and I broke your mom’s cookie jar. She kept saying it was an accident, but I knew it wasn’t, because I was trying to get us some cookies.

\- Stiles, this is not as simple as a cookie jar. It was a psycho spirit causing strife using your face like a freaky Halloween costume.

\- Yeah… remember me to never go trick-or-treating again.

Stiles was smiling, but Scott knew he didn’t mean it, and not just by his rising heart rate.

\- Stiles… How are you feeling?

\- Pretty good, actually. I could eat a horse and then sleep like a hibernating polar bear. I just don’t feel like facing everyone yet.

\- Stiles, please, don’t lie to me. I know you’re not even near “pretty good”.

His heart rate rose again.

\- Are you listening to my heartbeat?

\- I don’t need werewolf powers to know there’s something wrong with you. You’re my brother, I know you since we were four. I just can tell when you’re not fine.

His heart rate kept rising, but this time he also started shaking as tears started sprouting from his eyes. Scott moved to get closer to him and, by doing so, scraped his hand on Stiles’. As soon as they touched, black veins rose up Scott’s arm, filling his muscles with pain, from the skin the the bone.

\- You’re in pain… You’re still in pain, Stiles. What are you feeling? Let me take some of it.

\- Scott… Please, don’t. You already have your own pain to deal with… You’re not the only one who can tell when there’s something wrong with your brother. I know you’re suffering and it’s my fault…

\- You never made me suffer!

\- Yes, I did! - screamed Stiles, starting to cry heavily. - I remember twisting that sword in your gut Scott, I remember the way you looked at me, I remember the pain I took from you, I remember everything! And now you want to take my pain right after the funeral of two people who died because of me? Allison is dead! You loved her Scott! Why you keep putting other people before you? I should be the one taking your pain, not the other way around! I deserve everything I’m feeling after all that I did!

\- STILES, STOP! - roared Scott, his eyes flashing alpha red, making Stiles instantly stop talking. He was shaking from head to toe and sobbing uncontrollably. - Listen to me: you didn’t do any of that, do you understand? It was the Nogitsune! If there is anyone to blame, it’s that fox! Allison and Aiden are gone, but you had nothing to do with it, nothing, and there’s nothing we can do to change that now. We are all sad and in pain, but someday we will get over it, and so should you. I know it’s hard, but I’m here to help, Stiles. You are not alone and will never be! I don’t want to feel like I am losing you anymore! I love you and I need you Stiles, and I will keep taking your pain away until you feel better and stop blaming yourself for what happened! Trust me, it hurts way less than seeing you like this. So please, let me help!

At first he didn’t react, making Scott think that he overdid it by screaming at his friend, even though they weren’t screams of anger, but in fact frustration. However, a few seconds later, Stiles’ mouth began trembling and he broke down, laying his face against Scott’s chest and wrapping his arms around his torso before starting to cry loudly. Scott responded by placing one hand on his friend’s head and the other on his back. From every inch of Scott’s skin that touched Stiles’, black veins emerged, filling his body with his friend’s pain. However, it didn’t hurt, or at least it didn’t bother him. The relief of seeing Stiles letting all his grief go diluted in his tears was greater than any physical pain.

Scott could feel Stiles’ mind expelling every feeling he had been keeping to himself for all those days. He could smell the angst, fear, pain, regret, shame and guilt on the tears that were damping his shirt. He always knew his friend’s strength was beyond any pale skin or fragile bones, but never thought he could be this strong. Seeing how much he had endured for the sake of everyone almost made Scott cry as well, but he knew it wasn’t the right time for that. It was Stiles’ moment, the one he needed and deserved after going through far too much for far too long. 

He kept comforting him until there was no more physical pain to drain and no more tears to be spilled. He could feel his scent slowly getting back to what it was, his heart rate slowing down and his breathing starting to seem less painful. He also felt what was left of Stiles’ energy be depleted as his hug, which began strong, was loosening. Finally, he was almost sleeping on his arms.

Scott gently placed Stiles’ head on his favorite pillow and covered him with the blanket. He stayed next to him, caressing his head until he was fast asleep. When he was sure Stiles was resting, with a calm and stable heart rate, Scott left, turning the lights off and closing the door behind him. He exited from the front door, realizing the footprints he left in the hall and hoping Mr. Stilinski wound’t get too angry at him about it. After locking the door and placing the spare key back in its place, Scott got into his mother’s car and drove back home.

For a good while, Scott didn’t feel any pain. He knew it would only last until something reminded him of Allison, but, at least for now, he was just happy that he hadn’t lost Stiles. He never stopped believing that he could bring him back, and there he was. His best friend, his brother, his anchor, his love. One of his halves was finally getting better. Now he had to take care of the other one. 

Not the true alpha’s. Scott McCall’s.


End file.
